The Bonne Chronicles 2: Secret Wars
by OcelotRunner
Summary: With the takeover complete, Tracy "Tron" Bonne is the last of the resistance. She is taken in by Dr. Light where they plan to restore order to the country. But Tron has her own plans, for justice. A new uprising is formed by two cold and calculated survivors of Wily's wrath. Hellbent on revenge, they seek it at all costs and at anyone's expense.
1. The Proposition

Chapter 1

 **July 22, 2091-Boston, Massachusetts**

Light Tower was a lot bigger than Tracy had imagined. She was escorted into the lobby, still in restraints. She looked to the woman escorting her, "I know you don't believe me, but can we please cut these zip ties off? This is kind of embarrassing." She said, looking at the gawkers.

"If we find out that you are who you claim to be, _then_ I'll cut you loose. Until then, better safe and all that." The woman called "Miller" responded.

Tracy rolled her eyes, "I told you, I _can_ prove who I am, just open my bag."

The Captain kept walking, "Calm down, we're almost there." She replied, as they entered the lift.

On the top floor, they walked through security checkpoints, before approaching the holding cells. Tracy sighed, as she was put inside the cube of reinforced glass. She rubbed her freed wrists, looking at the male soldier, "Hey, can I have my things now? You guys already took the data drive."

Radcliffe nodded, "Miller's taking the drive to Dr. Light, and a droid is on the way to scan your bag."

She laid on the bed, looking to the ceiling, almost dozing off. Almost, that is, before Miller returned, obviously irritated. "Up, girl." She said, "What the hell are you playing, here?" She asked.

Tracy stayed on the bed, smiling, "Can't get past my encoding?" She picked at her teeth, "Bring my things to me, in Dr. Light's office, _please_."

Miller huffed, then activated her comms, walking outside the door. Tracy sat up, grinning at Radcliffe and the guards. Miller wasn't gone long, before returning, "Congratulations," she said, "you now hold the record, for shortest detention stay in Light Tower." She said to Tracy, who stood and curtsied, sarcastically.

In Light's office, the brown-haired man sat, awaiting her arrival. Preston Light looked impatient, the stubble on his face suggested a high amount of drinking, and an equally low amount of sleep, in his lifestyle. At the age of forty, he was already feeling run-down and defeated. He raised his eyes to her, as she entered with Miller in tow.

"Tracy 'Tron' Bonne, huh?" He asked, skeptically, eying the small, pink-haired, nineteen year old. "So, _this_ is you?" He said, activating a holopad, bringing up a picture.

Tracy put a hand over her mouth, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh. The picture was an artist rendering of a tall, muscular woman, with a dark pink liberty spiked mohawk, and two huge machine guns. Beside her was a small, silver robot, with a skull on it's chest, and cannons for hands. "That is _so_ me." She answered, sardonically.

Light was slightly amused, "Bring me her things, please." He said to Miller. "You know, I don't _disbelieve_ you. But we are in the middle of a...situation, at the moment. Are you familiar with _The Rancors_?" He asked.

Tracy raised an eyebrow, "I've been living under bridges, in restrooms, and in storm drains for the last three months. I wasn't even sure if I was going the right direction half the time." She leaned closer, "So, no, Dr. Light. What is a fucking 'rancor'?" She asked.

He brushed the subject off, as Miller placed her duffel bag on the desk. Light opened it, to see a small, yellow-face robot, looking out at him. "So you _are_ Tron Bonne. I must admit, the drawings are a tad exaggerated." He said, pulling the servbot out.

"Since he's out, any way you could hook him up and reboot him? Life on the road was too much for him." She asked, grinning.

He looked over to her, "Shouldn't be a problem. But let's talk about this data drive first."

"I'm not decrypting it." She stated plainly. "Not until you agree to help me, and everyone, ultimately."

He was confused, "Okay, I'm listening." He responded.

Tracy pulled out a framed plexiholo, activating a thumbnail picture. It brought up a photo of her and Scott, taken days before his capture.

"Your brother." He began, "He was executed, I'm aware of that and I sympathize, I really do. But if you are planning on asking me to go after Wily, I'm afraid the answer's 'no'."

She shook her head slowly, "Not exactly. I'll give you a small hint of what's on that drive. The men leading Wily's forces, all over the nation, aren't men, at all. They're the highest form of A.I. Living, thinking, humanoids."

Light was knocked of guard, speechless for a moment. But he knew she was telling the truth, his former best friend was certainly capable of deviant things, he had come to find out.

She pointed to the data stick, "Information on a good amount of android officers, is what's on that. My brother and my friends all died getting that intel. The last time I spoke with Scott, he told me to put this in your hands, that _you_ were the only capable person to make use of it." She looked at him, seriously now, "When he was executed, I encrypted it, thoroughly."

Light was baffled again, "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because, the fate of a nation is now on your shoulders, and I need a favor. Otherwise, everybody will continue to suffer and be slaves here, just because you wouldn't help a young, homeless girl." She replied.

He stared at her, "You're clever, I'll give you that. I'm starting to see why The Wraiths enlisted you." He put his glasses back on, "Alright, Miss Bonne, what can Light Industries do for you?"

"I've followed your career my entire life, just about. I've always considered you to be a superior engineer to Wily. So if he can make these things, so can you." She pointed to the photo, "I want my brother back. He deserves more than a bolt through the head, for his heroism, and we still have unfinished business." She stated.

Miller scoffed, "Out of the fucking question. Get up, we're leaving."

Light raised a hand, "Hold on, Lana." He said, stopping her.

"What?!" She replied, "You can't be serious! Machines are our enemy, Preston!"

He smiled, "We've heard the stories about you, Tracy. If they're true than you should be able to easily program a stable artificial life form. And if what you say is true, we are going to need some sort of defense against the machines." He nodded, "I'll build a prototype of your brother, on one condition. We are not attacking Wily, that is not an option, here. But when the time is right, and if we have the means, we _will_ make our move. But not until I say. Understood?"

"Got it." She said, as she opened Robbie's back plate, and pulled out a data stick. "Here you go, Doctor." She said, tossing it to him.

"What is this?" He asked.

"It's Detective Shroud's full intel and network, like I promised." She said, pulling the data drive from the console.

"Then, what's that?" Light questioned.

"My personal music collection." She said, putting it in her pocket, "I couldn't actually encrypt an entire data drive out on the run, c'mon." She gave him a wink, and began to walk out.

"Miss Bonne," He said, stopping her, "what would you say if I offered you a job with us? I have an empty lab on the top floor."

She grinned, "I would say Dr. Bonne has a nice ring to it."

Tracy walked slowly into her fully-stocked working quarters. She felt like a kid on Christmas, as she tossed her bag on the worktable. She looked around in amazement, before hearing a young man's voice behind her, "So, _the_ Tron Bonne, here in Light Tower." He said, as she turned around. He was a slim, plain-looking man, about her age, staring back at her in awe. He put out his hand, "I'm sorry, Brian Jennings, I'm Dr. Light's apprentice in Advanced Technology Development."

She shook his hand, responding, " _Tracy_ Bonne. I don't go by that other name, anymore."

"I hope you don't mind me asking," he began, as she pulled the servbot from her bag, "but how old are you? I don't mean any disrespect, it's just, I thought, from the stories and all, you would be..."

"Bigger?" She finished, grinning. "Nineteen." She answered.

"Wow, I mean, you're my age." He said, amazed.

She shrugged, "Guess we were all forced to start learning early. How long have you been here?"

He chuckled, lightly, "I've lived here my whole life, just about. My dad was one of the resident workers back when this place was The Wily-Light Tower. He always talked about how much fun this place used to be, back when the two of them would have employee banquets, and all that." He lowered his head. "I was in middle school when it just became Light Tower, been kinda glum since."

Tracy rolled her eyes, turning to grab various fabrics and metals from the cases. "The Takeover really did a number on you guys." She said sarcastically, "Made you all _sad_ and shit."

Brian looked down, slightly embarrassed, "I'm aware of what the outside world thinks of us, in here." He looked back up to her, "But we aren't completely apathetic."

"Yeah, Miss Bonne," Miller interjected, walking in, "Not everyone is out causing mass hysteria. Some of us choose to fight back in a more subtle way." She nodded to Jennings, who took the hint and left the lab. "Don't get me wrong, The Wraiths were a beacon of hope and heroism to all of us. But I never took you for the self righteous type."

Now it was Tracy's turn to feel like an ass. "I'm sorry, I've just been alone and sulking for too long, I guess."

Miller smirked, "I understand trying to make a change, but violently lashing out against Wily brings on the wrong kind, _especially_ if you're unprepared."

Tracy chuckled, "Are you kidding me?" She said, hooking up a shaping grinder, "We were fully prepared," She fired up the machine, " _and_ organized!" She yelled over the screaming steel plank.

Miller was unaffected by the noise, simply shouting over it as well, "Not The Wraiths! I'm talking about the irresponsible splinter groups you inspired."

Tracy stopped the machine, pulling her goggles up, "What are you talking about? That's just crazy."

Miller raised an eyebrow, "Is it? Since the fall of your group, there have been several bands of novices, getting themselves killed trying to fight the machines. Then there's this latest gang of savages, they call themselves _The Rancors_. They're a different breed, they're actually _good_ at what they do."

"Ah, well there ya go." Tracy interrupted, clicking her tongue.

Miller put a hand up, "What they _do_ is loot supplies that would be rationed to the civilians, then torch Wily's buildings and stores to the ground. What they are doing is hurting everyone, and no one can seem to get their hands on the pricks." She rubbed her forehead, "In a month we've only seen two in the act, but they got away."

Tracy went back to work on her materials, "I believe you'll figure something out." She said pulling her goggles back down.

"Well, that's kind of _your_ job now." Miller said smirking, "You'll start patrols with Radcliffe tomorrow, so don't stay up too late tinkering with..." She looked at the pile of metal, raising an eyebrow, "What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

"Oh this?" Tracy said, looking back to her, "It's a dog. Well, sort of."


	2. Reassigned

Chapter 2

 **Sixteen Months Later**

Tracy was on her hands and knees, watching the blood pool on the concrete. The fully armored female had driven a forearm into her black visor, cutting her face across her nose. "Tracy, get up!" She heard Radcliffe yell. "She's getting away!" Her thoughts were jumbled, _How do they keep doing this?_ She thought.

For well over a year, The Rancors had become more crafty, more dangerous. They hadn't captured a single one, yet. Tracy stood up, more pissed than hurt, and bolted out of the back of the store, after the girl who had caught her off-guard. She still bore her helmet, just with a busted visor, and her body armor felt like a thousand pounds. The exo-suit was actually very light, so she knew she was in a bad way.

Entering the stockroom, she saw Radcliffe's feet, as she collapsed to the floor. _I'm a fucking engineer._ She thought. _Not a soldier._

Radcliffe stopped his pursuit, looking back, "Holy shit, Tracy!" He shouted, running back.

"Keep going." She tried to mutter, before vomiting on the floor and dozing off.

When she came to, she was back in Light Tower, looking up at Dr. Light, himself. "What happened out there?" He asked simply, while examining her head wound, pulling back her, now jet-black, hair.

"Rancors." She said plainly. "It was just the one again, the girl."

Light nodded, "That's what makes them hard to nail down, they hit light, escape easy. Any sign of the platoon?" He asked.

She shook her head, "Wily's machines got to them first, they were..." She began to shudder and tear up at the thought.

Shortly after arriving at Light Tower, the "underground" had been compromised, and communications severed. A mysterious agent, calling himself Silas, had given the "end transmission" code, meaning Wily's "men" had gotten into the network. Ever since then they had been desperately trying to pin down where the squads were holding up, and bring them to safety. It was a win-win as far as Miller could see, they were rescuing refugees _and_ building a stronger "secret military", inside the Tower.

Light unhooked his machines, smiling. "You have a slight concussion, other than that, I think you might make it." He said, jokingly.

She looked at him skeptically, "Why are you smiling?" She asked, "You never smile, what's the catch?"

"He's finished." He replied, simply.

Her eyes grew wide, "Are you serious?! Let me grab the chip!" She exclaimed, starting to stand up.

Light stopped her, "Tracy, are you sure you want to do this? I implore that you rethink the programming."

It was true that The Takeover had changed Scott. In times of desperation, he did bad things, to bad people. He wasn't the same jovial person that he was growing up. But Tracy had altered that, giving Scott the personality that she loved most about him. But what bothered Light was still including him with the memories of his darker days, his last days.

"Coming back into the world, knowing these things may make him a danger." Light continued.

"Trust me." She told him, "He needs to know what he's been through. _That's_ not what makes him dangerous. If we keep important things from him, and he finds out, _that_ will make him unable to cope." She looked away, "My shithead father always told me that I understand machines more than people." She chuckled, "Irony, right?"

Light nodded, "I'll trust you on this. I feel like you know what's best for his psyche, but this _can't_ go south on us." He stressed.

Tracy smiled, "My dog hasn't mauled anyone, yet." She joked.

Scott lay on the table, as if he were sleeping. The sight made Tracy gasp, overwhelmed with a flood of emotions. "Oh my God." She whispered, voice quivering, "It's really him."

Dr. Light motioned her to his head, where the table was hollow beneath it. There was a bucket of what looked like thin jello on the floor. She handed him the chip, as he pulled a wired port from Scott's empty skull. After plugging it in, he submerged the connected chip into the mold, and pushed it up into the head.

After sealing it shut and stitching the hair in place, Light walked over to the console. "This is it, Tracy. Are you ready?" He asked.

She couldn't speak, only nod while covering her mouth.

With the stroke of a few keys, and the a few beeps, Scott opened his eyes. He didn't sit up, he simply eyed the room from his back, as if he were confused. "What is this?" He asked, quietly.

Tracy had tears streaming down her face, "Scott?" She said.

He looked over at her, "Tron," he began, "I knew I should have gone back for my scarf." He said, jokingly.

The three laughed awkwardly, while Tracy and Dr. Light stared on in awe.

In Tracy's lab, a beer bottle fell over, spilling it's contents across her "break table".

"Shit, Alex." Miller said, laughing, as he rushed to find a towel.

Alex was flinging open cabinets in a frenzy, "It's not funny, Lana." He began, "The chick has some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder about her shit. She'll probably kill me if she finds out."

"Oh, I'll probably kill you," Tracy said walking in, "but it will be over the stale smell of cigarette smoke rather than some spilled beer."

Miller covered her mouth, hiding her drunken grin, as she watched Alex Light try and dig his way out of a deep hole.

"Wha.., I, nah Trace, I mean, I had one before I came in a few times, but...nah I wouldn't..." He tried to explain.

"Relax," She said, cutting him off, "just know that I know." She walked over to the break table, trailed by Rush. "So what do you need and how long have you been here?" She asked, wiping off the seat across from Lana.

"We came to check on you." Miller replied, looking at the gash on Tracy's head. "Heard you took an ass whoopin' out there."

Tracy rolled her eyes, "Oh c'mon, she hit me by surprise and ran. Hardly an 'ass whoopin'." She glanced over, as Alex handed her a glass of whiskey before sitting down.

"Hey, I'm not sure if it's a good idea to drink after a head injur..." Miller started to say, as Tracy downed the glass in a quick shot. "Okay, nevermind."

Tracy motioned to Alex, "Hey, can you be a sport and grab me another?" She asked.

He smirked, "Pft, what am I, your dog?" He asked.

She shook her head, looking down at the table, "No. My dog is smarter than you. He has complete human comprehension and problem solving logic." Rush sat, staring at him and barked quietly. She looked up to see Alex was slightly offended. "C'mon, Light, don't be upset. Hell if it makes you feel any better, he's smarter than Miller, too." She said, playfully.

Miller raised an eyebrow, "Why would you make him that way, but not let him be able to speak?"

"Because a talking dog would be creepy." Tracy replied, as Alex handed her another glass. She looked at Rush, who's head was cocked to one side, "What? Don't look at me like that." She shrugged and threw back the second drink, "Well this is fun and all, but let's cut the shit, Lana. What do you need?" She asked.

Lana let out a sigh, "Well, since you wanna skip the pleasantries; I need another mobile repair unit. As soon as possible, for Radcliffe."

Tracy wiped her mouth, handing Alex her glass. He shook his head as she gave him a playful wink. "Two things," She began, as Alex brought her another drink, "A: A mobile repair unit takes a little more than a couple days to make; and Two: Marcus having a MRU is redundant, I'm his partner." Her eyes grew wide with realization, "Wait, you're firing me?!"

Miller shook her head, "Not at all. Think of it as reassignment."

Tracy shot a look to Alex, who just put his hands up, "I just live here." He responded.

"This is bullshit, Lana! Marcus and I are inches away from toppling The Rancors, and you're just pulling me off? For what?! Because I got a little head injury?!" Tracy questioned.

Miller was handling the situation calmly, considering her temper. She detested being questioned in her decisions, and hated being shouted at, infinitely more. "You're being assigned to Wily detail." She stated, plainly. "With your _machine._ " She added.

"The Wily unit has an entire squad to work with Scott. Adding me will make no difference." She replied through her teeth. She already knew where this talk was going, but she wanted to hear the words, make Miller _say_ them.

"You and _Scott_ will be the new Wily unit. I'm moving all of my men to Rancor detail, they need to be caught and stopped." Miller replied.

"Say what you mean, Lana. You don't trust my _machine_. It'll be acceptable for _me_ to die if something goes wrong. My _machine_ , my mistake. Right?" She fired back.

Lana held her gaze, and simply responded, "It's not personal, Trace. These machines are capable of almost anything, and I won't risk my people's lives on your gamble. If something goes south, _you_ would know what to do, my men wouldn't."

Tracy downed her drink, seething. When Alex went to grab the glass she put up her hand, stopping him. "I need to lay down." She looked to Miller, "I'll start on the MRU tomorrow."

"Tracy, I hope you un..." Miller began to say.

"Goodnight Lana." She interrupted, signaling for Rush to follow her out of the room. She nodded to Alex, "Goodnight Light."

Standing up from the table, Alex looked over at Miller, "That was awkward. I wouldn't have come with you if I knew you were gonna dump a bomb on her."

"And if you hadn't of come, I might have lost my shit, and done or said things I may regret." She replied, leaning on his shoulder, as they staggered out.

"Tracy's a hot-head," He began as they entered the dim hallway, "but she's always had your men's best interests in mind. Don't you think you should trust her on this, just a little, as her friend?"

Miller sighed, "You don't understand these machines, no one does. Besides, you know I hate it when you make me think about peoples' feelings."

Alex laughed, picking Miller up, off her feet, "C'mon, let's go eat Jenning's nutrition bars, while he's busy with the new android."

Tracy stared at the ceiling, wide awake. If gathering information on the king was pushed back to a two person job, then she and Scott would take a more invasive approach. Let the lemmings chase the Rancors in circles, with Protoman at her side, it was time they wage a secret war, and heads would finally roll, again.


	3. Making Deals

**Chapter 3**

 _ **Williamsburg, Virginia-One Month Later**_

Nick Rolph was a powerful, one-time, political figure. He shook his head silently in disappointment, as the large Wily transport unit barreled down the highway. His "partner", some twenty-something jerk-off named Foley was driving like some kind of Nascar hero. "Will you slow the hell down?" He requested, slightly annoyed. "The boss ain't gonna reward us for being the first ones on sight. So just calm down, kid."

"Shit, Rolph. We are practically the only ones on the road, and the civs in the back are just headed for execution, anyway. Why don't you lay back and take a nap, pop-pop." Foley responded, grinning.

"I didn't go through all the trouble of rounding up these pricks, just to have you kill us all driving like an asshole. Now slow, the hell, down." Rolph fired back.

Foley cut his eyes at him, pressing the accelerator more. "You might have been 'Captain-Big-Shit' before. But out here, you're a common fucking grunt, just like the rest of us."

Before the situation could escalate any further, a dark, steel-plated van emerged from the entrance ramp, on their left. The side door slid open, to reveal the intimidating figure of a man, clad in a grey nanosuit, with a long, crimson vest, hanging to his knees. A red cloth covered the bottom half of his face, tightly, while he stared on from behind a jet-black eye-visor. The red form-fitting helmet bore what appeared to be a three-talon, white claw, stretching back from the brow.

In a matter of seconds, Wily's men went for their guns, but weren't fast enough to pull before the man was gone, and the van put the breaks on.

After Protoman pounced to the top of the transport, Tron slammed the breaks, and spun the van facing the opposite direction. The helmet's mask made her vision slightly skewed, but she remained cool under pressure as she followed the transport at a hundred miles-per-hour, in reverse. The back doors opened, allowing seven armed and ready servbots to emerge and begin cutting away at the rear exit. "Hold it steady, Tron." Protoman said over comms, as the people cautiously crossed vehicles, amongst the swerving.

"Just keep them occupied!" Tron replied, watching Proto puncture the roof of the cab.

Once the civilians were all across, Tracy stopped the van, putting it in drive and retreating. "They're getting away with the prisoners!" Rolph yelled, avoiding the attacker's staff, that continued to pierce overhead.

"What the hell can I do at the moment!?" Foley responded. "Get this fucker off of us!" He screamed at the older man.

In light of Rolph's attempt to open the door, a small, T-shaped object was thrown out, in front of the truck. Steel rods sprung out in all directions, anchoring into the ground, and bringing their vehicle to an abrupt stop. Amongst the deafening collision, Protoman dove from the transport, plunging his bladed batons into it's side, and holding on for dear life.

With the cab in a total scrap heap, Scott walked up, ripping the driver's side door off and tossing it aside. The internal vehicle safety features, much to the men's soon-to-be dismay, kept his targets alive and intact. Foley fumbled out, face down on the asphalt, "C'mon man. I don't know nothin'! You don't need me!" He desperately informed Protoman, as Rolph staggered around the front of the wreckage.

Protoman slowly picked up a large slab of concrete, as the man crawled on his hands and knees, begging. He looked over at Rolph and mercilessly brought the block down on Foley's skull, crushing it.

Rolph smirked, "Ain't hurtin' my feelins. I hated that dickwad."

Protoman walked slowly toward him, "That was just a message. Wanted to go ahead and skip the whole 'You ain't got the guts' phase of our little chat."

"And what makes you think this _chat_ is gonna help you? Because I have no intention of telling you shit." Rolph stated, picking up a broken pipe. "You picked the wrong truck to play hero with."

Rolph swung the weapon hard at Scott's head, only to have it slapped to the side. Proto deflected it with ease, grabbing and twisting the man's wrist in one flowing motion. Rolph let out a yelp of anguish, before being gripped around the neck and thrown through the windshield of the vehicle. He shook his bleeding head, trying to shake the cobwebs, when his attacker opened the passenger door, pulling him halfway out. He counted four ribs that he felt crush when the door came back around on him.

Protoman let the man drop to the ground, kneeling down beside him, "Now, Mr. Rolph. Let's make a deal. You enlighten me to a few things, and I let you go back to whoever and tell the story of what The Rancors did to you."

Nick grimaced, with blood pouring from his mouth, "Go fuck yourself."

Proto shook his head. _Guess I gotta speed this up a little._ He thought. Grabbing the man by the feet, he dragged his flailing body over to the guard railing. "Last chance." He said, "Wanna play nice, and do this the easy way?" Rolph simply threw a piece of concrete his way, clumsily. Protoman pulled his right ankle under the lowest bar, and his left over it then under the bar in the opposite direction. With one swift motion, he yanked each foot upward, to the cries of "Wait, wait, wait," followed by horrific screams that echoed through the sky. "Now," Proto began, as he unwrapped Rolph's mangled legs, "Where are Wily's task-forces located?" He asked.

Nick was granted a few seconds for screaming, before halfway composing himself, "Three housing units on the east coast. The Parkway Villa, here; the old UNCW, in North Carolina; and Fort McHenry, in Baltimore."

"That's it?" Protoman asked, "You're full of shit. The whole country is under thumb, and you're telling me that there's only three compounds, and they're all on the east coast?" Proto pulled his shin under the railing now.

"Wait, wait, I swear!" Rolph screamed, "The human units are slowly depleting, and rather than recruit, Wily is just having more machines made. What's left of us is all being kept here, close to Wily."

Scott looked back at him, not fully surprised, "Who do you report to?" He asked, already assuming the answer, but wanting confirmation.

"An android, Shroud. The same one who did away with The Wraiths a couple years ago. He makes all the calls." He informed him.

"Where is he located?" Scott asked.

"We never know. It's always encrypted when he contacts us, and there's no return communication."

Proto nodded, "See? That wasn't so hard." He said grabbing Rolph by the grey flak jacket, and picking him up. He raised him over the railing, sixty feet to the interstate below.

"Wait! We had a deal!" Rolph screamed.

Scott grinned under the red cloth, "I have altered the deal." He said, before throwing him to his final destination.

 _ **Location Unknown**_

The two sat in the dark, the glow of a blank holo the only thing illuminating their faces. The leader of The Rancors kept no name, no definite identity. His female companion stood by his side, silently. "The reports are coming in slower than normal." He stated. "There aren't enough of us to keep up with Wily and Light."

"Any word from Silas and his team?" She asked

He shook his head, "They're not due to report for another thirty minutes." He said plainly.

"How sure are we that this 'Branson' guy will show up?" She asked.

"Silas always does his homework. And he doesn't personally stick his neck out unless its a sure bet. Branson will be there, and once we have him we can begin unleashing Hell inside Wily's 'family'." He said, grinning.

Transmissions began to scroll on the holo:

 _ **Ursine:** Stockyard clear, returning._

 _ **Gavin:** Fueling stations flat, returning._

 _ **Rawlin:** Mechanics functional, returning._

 _ **Silas:** Help..._

Without a word, the two immediately made their way to the armory. _Be it Wily or Light, they will regret their decision soon._ The man thought. _Whatever went wrong, Branson is not leaving on his terms._


	4. The Juggle

**Chapter 4**

 _ **Jefferson Square- Williamsburg, Virginia**_

Miller and Radcliffe gripped their assault rifles, while slowly scanning the dark corners of the once thriving shopping center. "I feel like we're chasing shadows." Miller stated, quietly.

Radcliffe looked to the squad of soldiers behind him and turned back to her, "You really think Colonel Harper is the leader of The Rancors?" He asked.

"Don't know." Miller said, "The leaked holo could have been faked. Or worse, this is a death trap."

"I don't know Captain. Judging by the looks of the place, it could be true, and he fled." He replied.

"Just stay focused. Harper was a smart son of a bitch, so expect anything." She said.

After another hour of scouring the mall, they were convinced that the place was abandoned. From behind the two-way mirror of a former department store, Silas and his team of four watched Light's men begin to take their leave. Silas was a muscular man in his late forties. He wore an olive green T-shirt under his combat vest, and a beret to match. A black patch covered his missing right eye, courtesy of Phillip Branson, his second in command turned national terrorist and traitor. So it was no surprise that he was Shroud's go-to right hand man. His days as Colonel had bred harsh terrain for today's "new world".

"Graves," Silas said quietly, in his deep cold voice.

"Yes sir?" Graves whispered.

"I did say to feed the bait to _Wily's_ men, correct?" He asked.

Graves nodded, quickly, "Yes, sir. And that is _exactly_ what I did, I'm sure of it."

"Why are we watching Light's people scour this place? They are going to fuck the entire plan, unless they leave five minutes ago." Silas replied.

"We can always 'take care' of them before Wily's men show up." Graves suggested.

Silas gave him a look, "They are cowards and apathetic. But they don't deserve to be executed. One enemy at a time, Graves."

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble. The change of tone was caught by Miller and her men as well, as they turned back toward the low hum in the distance. "Ah shit." Silas said, shaking his head, "This is gonna be fun."

The south wall exploded suddenly. Avoiding debris Miller took cover behind a brick bench. "Post up!" She screamed to her men. "C-two-nines, now!"

On the order, a dozen metal orbs hailed down on Wily's forces like stones, bursting into a blue, glowing substance, coating the ranks. Miller and Radcliffe took cover, firing their assault rifles straight up, as the fusion bolts flew like wasps to the covered enemies. If there was one thing Miller could say about Tracy Bonne, she knew how to make people die. Looking across to Radcliffe, she gave him a nod, and in an instant he drew a baton-shaped rod. Putting his foot on the horizontal bar, he stomped the bottom into the ground, causing it to explode, launching him to the second level.

As the bolts rained in on them, Radcliffe drew his scoped sidearm and began removing vital portions of their foes heads. As if having enough, Wily's men rolled out several cylinders, filling the room with black smoke.

"Alright men, this is getting too ugly." Silas said. "Stay low, and if you find Branson, get him out of here _at any cost._ " Seeing the chaos in front of him, he made the call for help. "We will have this day." He stated plainly before sliding the mirror back and scaling the back of the room.

The hoards of soldiers in black were closing in violently, Miller fell back, unloading a flurry of bolts into the crowd. She ducked into an old appliance shop and commed Tracy, "Bonne, get your machine-man and get to Jefferson Square, no questions!"

"Copy." Tracy replied.

Hiding behind a counter, Miller unraveled a small chain from her left leg pocket. "Let's see how you fuckers like this." She muttered, throwing it over the heads of the advancing troops. The chain extended into a large net above them, then shifted density becoming the weight of a bus. She looked on as the three-ton net fell on the men and machines, turning them to chopped meat.

Units were beginning to flank Radcliffe, from all sides. He holstered his pistol as they closed in by the twenties. Pulling a grenade, he beckoned them closer, "C'mon!" He yelled, "You ready to leave this place together?!" The soldiers began to back away to a safe distance, when their heads began popping in the blink of an eye. They didn't even have time to catch a glance at the three snipers at the opposite end of the building. Radcliffe looked across, but could only make out scopes, before they were gone. _We didn't bring snipers._ He thought to himself, before focusing on the troops below.

Graves and his accomplices pulled up their rifles and descended back to the ground level. He pulled off his balaclava, ruffling his spiked, black and royal blue hair. "Help Light's folks best you can." He said to them, "Wily's men think they're Rancors, let them keep thinking that." The men nodded. "I'll comm you if I find Branson, at that point get the hell outta here, let them fend for themselves." And in an instant, he drew his sub-machine guns and disappeared into the smoke.

Miller saw the men invading her store from the employee entrance. _Tryin to out-flank me, huh?_ She thought, chuckling. These men weren't real soldiers before the takeover and it showed, they were clumsy, untrained, and all-around just bad at this. She rolled from behind the counter and crept around the empty shelves. The men came to the counter, opening fire at nothing but carpet. By the time they realized she was gone, it was too late. Like a twisted ballerina, she drew her knives from her vest and began slashing them to ribbons, one by one, from behind. She spun, sweeping the leg of the last man, mounting his back. "You never flank in a straight line, with everyone facing the same direction." She scolded him, before cutting his throat.

She stood up, not even out of breath, when she saw him across the lobby. Phillip Branson, with his heavy, silver armor, and slick bald head. She opened comms to her unit, "We have a celebrity among us, men. HVT identified as Phillip Branson, new objective: Capture him alive." She clicked off and began sneaking in his direction.

"Don't worry about the pawns, you dipshits!" Branson screamed, hacking through his enemies with large, iron, machetes. "Find Harper!"

As if perfectly timed, he was struck from behind and driven into the abandoned restaurant. Smashing into the three-foot wall, he spun swinging his blades, meeting only open air. Silas ducked low, striking him across the gut with a steel rod, dropping him to his knees. "Somehow I knew you would show your fucking face here, Phil." He said, kicking him across the face. "I'm bringing the package from the old Chili's on the north side." Silas commed. A gun pressed against his skull.

"I'm afraid that's not an option." Miller said, as he raised his palms. "Everyone fall back, we're leaving the way we came in." She told her men, walking around to Branson, restraining his wrists and picking him up.

"That's not your catch, Captain." Silas said, through his teeth, reading her patch.

"With all do respect, _Colonel,_ you're both coming with me." She replied.

He chuckled, "What does Light have to do with any of this? Why don't you just go back to patrolling for litterers and let the real fighters do our part."

"And what is your part, Harper? Or should I call you Silas?" She asked, "Never took 'Silas' for a Rancor, a common thug burning down the civilians supplies out of spite. You're not hurting anyone but the innocent."

He put his hands down, "You really don't know dick, do you?" He said, disgusted. "Do me a favor, _doll_ , go back to your tower, hide from the war, because you ain't helpin'."

She was about to reply when her arm was suddenly wrapped and twisted, from behind. The lady in exo-armor twisted her wrist and flung her hard into the glass display box. Miller stood up, staring into her mask before rushing her. She threw lightning-fast punches that were easily dodged and countered. The woman shoved her right shoulder, simultaneously kicking the back of Miller's knee, sending her to her back. But she never hit the floor, her attacker met her fall with a hard kick to the back, sending her into a world of pain.

"Give him here." The other man said, walking in. He had a long black goatee and a jet-black mohawk that draped his shoulder. The masked woman lifted Branson, pushing him to the man. "Silas, tell your guys to evacuate. We're done here."

The three opened the rear door, leaving Miller in a writhing heap in the dining room. There was a short burst of panic when the exit opened and their vehicle was gone. Standing in it's place were two figures, a man and a woman, each clad in grey and red. Their faces were both covered with red wraps and black goggles. The woman had her black hair pulled up in a ponytail, while the man wore a red helmet.

When their quarry emerged, Tron pulled the pin on her silver box, filling the sky with a flash of white light. The three all screamed in pain, blinded. "Grab the Wily guy, and get him to the van!" Protoman yelled. As he rushed Rancor trio. Extending his staff, he swung it deliberately, batting them back into the kitchen. The leader fell back grabbing two frying pans. He used them to deflect the flurry, while Silas and the woman circled around the sides.

Silas swung wide and downward, gripping one end of the staff, as the woman advanced from the other side, intending to land a right cross. Protoman clicked his thumb, causing the free end of his weapon to extend from a cord and met her across the helmet, before spinning back on Silas, knocking him loose.

The staff now a pair of nunchucks, he kicked the leader in the chest, driving him backward onto a prep table. The man recovered immediately, rolling over the back of the table and kicking it forward into his attacker's face. "Go!" He shouted to his cohorts, instructing them to follow the girl.

Protoman closed in quickly, on his rival, who grabbed a large brazing pot, to shield him from the blows. The staccato of pings sounded like a bad punk rock song on the pot, before the man spun low driving it into his foe's back. He looked at the huge dent on the pan in shock, as the masked figure slowly turn around. "A fucking android?" He muttered, before being gripped around the throat. The leader thought it was over, when the android jolted and fell to his knees.

"Sorry we're late sir." Graves said, holstering his voltage rod.

"We need to leave, now." He replied.

Tron rounded the corner with her captive, who began to laugh, through a bloody smile, when what was left of his platoon stood in wait by her van. She stopped in her tracks, turning the other way, only to see Silas, the leader, the masked woman, and three more Rancors approaching at high speeds. "Fuck!" She exclaimed in a panic.

When the guns came up from both sides, she dropped to the ground and the bolts soared overhead. The Rancors were more skilled than she had assumed, they took up tactical cover posts, laying down soldiers like it was a game.

She scurried with Branson toward the van, firing wildly with her sidearm. Ducking behind a dumpster, she began to pull and explosive from her vest, when she looked up to see the woman in the white exosuit lunging a boot at her face. She narrowly avoided the blow, falling to the right and pointing her weapon up at her. The woman took a step back, before stomping the gun to the ground and pulling her up. She slammed Tracy hard against the block wall, knocking her protective goggles from her face.

 _I really need to learn to fight._ Tron thought before a handful of dirt was thrown in her eyes. "Ah shit!" She yelled clawing at her face, ripping her mask down in the process.

The woman spun her around, quickly and cuffed her wrists. She looked back to the leader, "She's coming with us!" She screamed as the last of Wily's squad was shot dead.

"We don't take Light forces. Toss it back." He replied plainly.

She spun Tracy around to face him.

His eyes grew larger than dinner plates, "Is that who I think it is?! No fucking way!"

After treating Tracy and Branson to a dose of sleeping fumes, The Rancors ran back inside the kitchen, where Protoman was on his way to chase them. They stopped him in his tracks, drawing the largest guns he had ever seen. "Stop." The leader said, "We aren't your enemy. Remove your mask." He demanded.

"How about you settle for this." Protoman said, giving them the middle finger.

The woman pulled Tracy forward, putting a gun to her head. "Do it, now." The leader reiterated.

Scott put his palms up, "Alright, just calm down." He said, removing his helmet and pulling his mask down.

The leader looked shocked, "Who made you?" He asked quietly.

Scott pointed to Tracy, "Her and Dr. Light."

"Come with us, we _really_ need to talk." The leader said, hearing Light's troops helping Miller in the dining room.

"Give me my sister and just go." Scott said, "I can't trust you."

The leader's mohawk shifted to shoulder-length crimson hair. His goatee vanished and his face became that of an angry man in his mid-twenties, wearing a yellow electronic eye-mask. "I beg to differ." Helix said, before they exited the building, leaving Miller and Radcliffe to dash into an empty kitchen.


	5. The Death of Ghosts

**Chapter 5**

 _ **Norfolk, Virginia (Two Years Earlier)**_

The homeless problem had grown out of control across the country. They were regarded as no longer noticeable by Wily's people, this was perfect for Helix. The elderly balding man dragged his dirty feet, passing the patrols who didn't look twice at him. He was almost to his destination, the Battleship Wisconsin. There was reports that the formal Colonel and a small task force were seeking shelter there, but time was running short and Wily's men were sniffing a little too close for comfort.

The old man stumbled down the walkway along the battleship, gripping his bottle of wine. He turned to the tourist entrance and hurled the glass at it, "This country's gone to shit!" He shouted, as the massive latch pulled back. He stumbled forward, falling clumsily, before rolling into the entrance.

Graves gazed down at the disgusting man, "You could've just walked up to the door and said it, you know." He said, raising an eyebrow.

Helix shed himself of the disguise and stood up, "I've always wanted to have a dramatic spy entrance, though." He said grinning. "How are you guys holding up?" He asked.

"Not too good." Graves stated. "We've lost a lot of people, only ones left are me, the Colonel, Hayes and Prichard."

Helix shook his head, "I heard about Branson through the underground, fucking shame, man."

"It took us by surprise, but Colonel Harper didn't go down easy. Phil stabbed him in the fucking face for Christ's sake, and he _still_ kept fighting." Graves replied.

"So where's Harper, now?" Helix asked.

"He's in the gift shop, looking over surveillance. He'll be glad to see you." He answered.

All the memorabilia in the gift shop had been thrown into a corner, the shelves stocked with weaponry of all types. Harper sat quietly at the desk, decrypting reports of raids in local areas. "Raiding patterns suggest that Shroud's men will be stripping this area down in about three days." He said, without looking up.

"Good to see you too." Helix said, from the doorway.

The Colonel's head sprang up, "Gerard!" He said, getting up to greet him. He grabbed him by the hand, smiling. "I had no idea what had happened to you, then I heard...what the shit did you do to your hair? That _can't_ be government issue _._ "

Helix grinned, "C'mon, it's my own thing, and The Wraiths aren't technically under government sanctioned."

"Well, all that aside, it's good to see you, son. We've had some crippling setbacks and could really use the assistance." Harper said.

"We don't have a ton of resources, but considering you were a mentor to us for years, The Wraiths are more than willing to provide sanction for you and your men." Helix responded.

"We are eternally grateful, Gerard, believe me. But before we can transition, there are a few matters we have to deal with first." Harper said, in a grim tone.

Helix nodded, "I get that. Branson will have his time, but under our circumstances, we need to move in the next twenty-four hours, Sir."

Before the Colonel could reply, Helix's comms went off. Vapor's voice came through the transmission, "Helix, you copy?"

"Go ahead." He responded.

"We've got a massive change in the game, Glitch needs you back here, top priority." Vapor stated.

"Understood." Helix answered, clicking off. He looked back to Harper, "It looks like that time window just got a lot smaller, Sir."

The Colonel nodded, "Alright, you go ahead, we'll start getting our things. Just send encrypted coordinates to me, attention of Silas."

The two exchanged handshakes, as Helix made a run for his transport. Once out on the open street, he donned the identity of slim, black-haired man, wearing grey and black Wily patrol gear. He mounted his motorcycle, parked in the storeroom of an old dealership, and moved and blinding speeds for Chesapeake.

Approaching the compound, his heart sank at the sight of dozens of Wily-marked vehicles. Jumping off his bike, he was met by a young blonde-haired scout, wearing tactical "W" gear. "Hey man, what the hell are you doing?" He said cautiously, "Shroud's gonna get out any minute, and if you're out here with us, he'll kill your ass."

Helix had forgotten the disguise he had taken. Shaking his head quickly, he responded, "No, yeah I just, realized that my exo-helmet and rifle fell from transport on the way over, and I..."

"Alright, just stop before I'm forced to shoot you. Just get something off one of our dead, I don't give a shit." The man said, before shaking his head, "And good luck, asswipe."

The scout turned to walk away, when Helix grabbed a handful of his hair and jammed a combat blade into his neck. He crouched down, picking up the man's dropped helmet and rifle. "Thanks for the advice, dickhead." He whispered, as the man gasp for air.

The scene entering the compound was that of total mayhem. Never, in a hundred years, would he have thought there would be an _actual_ war happening in his living room. His head spun, almost to the point of vomiting, as he began to panic. He was too late, it seemed. Vapor lay dead in a river of blood by the holovision. Glitch was on the unconscious (or dead) end of a four-man pile-on. Troopers were dragging a limp-bodied Danica down the hallway. His vision began to pulsate as the anxiety set in, his only family was being slaughtered in front of him, and he was helpless.

Like a cornered animal, his eye caught a glimpse of Gina, her blonde hair swinging as she decimated the crowd around her. She drew closer to him, when he saw the men approaching from her right. He needed to act fast, any wrong move would get him killed, either by Shroud's men, or by Gina herself. As she deflected their strikes, she snapped their wrists, when Helix saw his opening. In a split second, he pulled out his neural-neutralizing injector, and grabbed her from behind. The point had to pierce exactly between vertebrates to put her down instantly, otherwise he would just be another of her victims. He still felt a sting of guilt as he drove the blade in, and she fell immediately.

The angry mob began to close in for some payback, before being stopped by the loud yelp of a dog. The fighting ceased to continue, as if that were the "ending bell". Helix looked forward, as he felt a hard nudge on the back of his shoulder. Holding Gina around the neck still, he watched as Shroud crossed into the kitchen area, where Scott lay bleeding on the floor, but alive.

"Zip-tie the leader!" Shroud shouted, before turning, and looking Helix in the eyes, then pointing, "You three, clean up the bodies, then destroy this place!"

Helix looked on, as Shroud crouched down, talking quietly to Scott. There had to be something he could do, but now he was being nudged to start dragging out the bodies, by another soldier. As he started to lift Gina over his shoulder, he heard the bolts fire, followed by Scott's screams. He looked over to see that Shroud had shot Danica dead, right in front of her fiance. Everything else was war, cat and mouse, deadly rivalry, but _that. That_ was when Helix had decided that he would make them all pay, and not just Shroud, _any_ turncoat human that bared the Wily insignia would die.

Once outside, he laid Gina's unconscious body on the sand by the water, while the other two men brought out Vapor and Danica. "These fuckers were little fighters." One man said, chuckling.

The other joined him and added, "I guess ghosts can be killed after all." They began to laugh, pulling out canisters of lighter fluid.

Helix seethed with rage, before drawing his sidearm and putting a bolt through the first soldier's head. The other man panicked, dropping the canister and reaching for his rifle, but Helix was on top of him in a blink, smashing the butt of his pistol into his face repeatedly. Anger got the better of him, he shed his disguise, shifting back to his true image, still donning his mask. "Ghosts can be killed?!" He mocked, kicking the man in the stomach. "C'mon, why aren't you laughing?!" He yelled, as the man gasped for air, spitting up blood. "Funny thing about you." He added, picking up the dropped canister, dumping the fluid on his foe, "You can be killed to." He pulled out a small lighter, igniting it's flame, "Just a lot easier." He said, lighting the man ablaze. He watched him scream and flail around in the sand, before he ceased to be.

He climbed the small ridge, watching Shroud's men drive into the distance. He opened his comm device, sending word for Silas and his team to meet him at the compound. Helix walked back down the bank, sitting down beside his friends. He pulled a silver cylinder from his jacket pocket and pressed it against Gina's chest. Her eyes shot open as she inhaled sharply.

"What the hell is going on?" she said, looking around at her comrades. Her eyes filled with tears, realizing that the whole thing had been real.

"Roll." Helix said, "I'm sorry." He added, not knowing what to say.

She let out a scream, as he wrapped her in his arms. The Wraiths were dead, but the hard-hitting blows to Wily would continue on, tenfold.


	6. Amongst Friends

**Chapter 6**

 _ **Toano, Virginia**_

Tracy awoke slowly, staring into the faces of two curious servbots. She furrowed her brow, before raising her head to take a look around. She had been placed on a small cot, in the corner of what looked like an old storeroom. The door was wide open and she wasn't restrained, so she wasn't sure what to think. _Why are my servbots here?_ She thought to herself. She was sure she had dropped them off with the rescues, before Miller had commed her.

"Find a weapon for me." She whispered to them. They only responded by looking at each other, then back to her. She frustratedly checked her wristband, scoffing at the droids.

"They won't listen to you." A female voice said, from the opposite doorway. "Because they're mine, skank."

Her eyes widened, looking into the smiling face of her best friend. A friend she had thought dead for years now. "Gina?!" She managed to sputter. "How...but..."

Gina walked forward, grabbing Tracy in her arms. "We thought you were fucking dead." She said. "And your hair looks ridiculous that color." Gina added, as they both laughed.

"Wait, hold on." Tracy said, pushing her back a step and looking at her armor, "You beat the shit out of me."

Gina smirked, "If it's any consolation, I stopped hitting you when I saw you face."

Tracy, shook her head, "Did you say _we_ thought you were dead?"

Gina took her hand, "C'mon, let's not keep the others waiting."

The upstairs office was neatly organized. Scott sat beside a slender, bald black man, who spoke with a furious Captain Miller via Holocomms. "Now calm down, Miss Miller. I will remind you that we are not adversaries here. This meeting is what you've been working so hard for, from what I understand. Don't be upset that it isn't on your terms."

Miller's image was seething, "First of all, it's _Captain_ Miller. Second, I will not negotiate with you while you hold our Head Engineer hostage!"

The man put his hand up, "You would rather negotiate while holding one of _my men_ hostage, I get that, a little abrasive, but I get it." He leaned forward, calm and collected, "And for further pleasantries, I will _not_ remind you that Tracy Bonne is amongst friends here, and is in no way being held against her will."

Miller seemed to calm down a bit, she looked to her right, presumably to Dr. Light, then turned back, "Alright. But I want to speak to Colonel Harper, or Silas, whatever he's calling himself now."

The black man slowly shook his head, "I'm afraid that's not possible, at the moment. Silas is not the speaker for the Rancors. He prefers to keep his involvement limited, to say the least. These are my men, my plans, my responsibility. I hope you can respect that, Captain."

Miller did not react the way Tracy head expected her to. She actually seemed content. "Okay, _mystery man_ , I'll start this conversation by requesting, _once,_ that you return Tracy and her machine guy, as a part of a trust exercise."

The man grinned, "I plan to do you one better than that, Captain. Currently, I will need Tracy and robot Scott's help executing The Rancors' 'final act'. We are already in the process of meeting our ultimate goal. What I'm requesting of you is a full squad of your best commandos to help."

"Are you fucking serious?" Miller asked, "Absolutely not. Your _team_ is rash and out of control, and even if we could help you, we wouldn't. From my perspective all you have accomplished in your 'tantrums' is destroying civilians' commodities and putting everyone at risk!"

He put his hand up, "Captain, I understand how it looks to you, but The Rancors have the ability to obtain sensitive information that you just do not. All of the structures we raided and burned were Wily weapons and armor caches. Some were even home to rogue troops from his regime. Not a single civilian resource was harmed by us." He looked over to Tracy and gave a small smile and wave, just realizing she was there. Looking back, he continued, "Now Scott has filled me in on how Wily has Light under his thumb, so you guys are having to operate in total darkness, but what I'm offering is a chance for your men to fight along side mine, as Rancors, for _one_ night. After that, the Bonnes, your troops, and all of our men will return to Light Tower, to work for _you._ "

"So you intend just to devote yourselves to us? For help with _one_ fight?" She asked perplexed, "What's the catch?"

He raised his eyebrows, "No catch. We've only wanted one thing and one thing only, revenge. After that, we were unclear on our purpose. Now we have a purpose passed revenge, Captain Miller. Now that we know what Light is trying to do, we want to help."

She nodded, in understanding, "Alright, give me the location and I'll have a team there within the hour."

They finished negotiations and the holo flicked away. The man turned to Tracy and gave her a hug. Slightly confused, she patted him on the back, awkwardly, looking over to Scott as if a question mark were hovering above her head. The man pulled away, and to her surprise she looked upon a skinny, white male, with long, blood-red hair, and his trademark yellow eye-wear. "Gerard!" She shouted, pulling him back.

Scott stood up, adjusting his black shirt, "It's good to see this reunion," He said smiling, "but Helix needs to catch you up on our new _house guest._ "

Branson dangled, by his ankles, swaying back and forth. The blood made a Rorschach-like pattern on the concrete below his head. He couldn't help but find humor in that. Silas had broken three of his ribs, but the cost of giving him the satisfaction was much steeper than that. Branson wouldn't let him get the pleasure, he would just have to focus on the pain until hope arrived.

The door opened behind him, and several footsteps approached. "He hasn't said a fucking word." Silas said to the visitors.

"We don't have long, Silas." The other voice said, "I'll give you ten more minutes to work on him, but we are gonna have to move in the next three hours."

Branson began to laugh, "Guess you won't be pacing yourself, eh Harper?"

The room was silent for a moment, while he finished laughing. A different man's voice, one he recognized but couldn't quite place, chimed in, "Break his elbow, then his shin. If he still holds out, get creative."

"Heh, they were right about you, kid." Silas said, just before snapping Branson's right elbow backward.

As he let out a stifled scream, from behind his gritted teeth, he felt his shin splinter in the middle. The pain washed across him, like a cold flame, when he finally screamed out loud.

"See there?" Scott said, "The weight of his body, hanging from that chain, should keep that leg throbbing until we leave." He patted Silas' shoulder, "Now you don't have to work as hard." Scott said, grinning as he walked out.

Silas turned back to Branson, who was trying to catch his breath, "Now, how do you contact Shroud?"

Branson spit and coughed, "You don't find him, he finds _you!_ " He shouted.

Silas remained calm, "Francois Boullier. Name probably doesn't ring a bell." He said, circling Branson. "In the Fifteen-Forties, Francois had an epiphany, that there were so many things that could be done with cheese, if only there were a way to make it _smaller,_ more fine."

Branson screeched as dozens of small, curved razors shaved at the skin on his back, repeatedly. He had almost gone unconscious, when a thunderous "boom" violently shook the building.

"What the fuck!" Silas yelled as alarms began to scream.

Gunfire could be heard outside of the room, as Silas lowered Branson to the floor. He picked the captive up, intending to make it out of the nearest exit, when the door exploded inward, and a blast to his chest took him off his feet. Branson hit the floor hard, looking up at Silas' killer. He smiled wildly to see Shroud, clad in a grey and white Wily nanosuit, holding a G-49 Heavy round repeater.

"Don't smile, you asshole." Shroud said, in his Louisianian accent, "You know what I had to go through to come and get you?" He asked. "Well, get your ass up, we've got to go!"

The mayhem was unbelievable. Bodies lay in pools of blood, gunfire seemed to have no pattern, only a steady roar. Branson limped along behind Shroud, avoiding all confrontation. That goal was almost successful, until they reached the exit. Roll took the opportunity when they passed by to grab Branson by his shackled wrist, spinning him full-speed, into a concrete breezeway pillar.

His vision went blurry, as she kicked his good leg out from under him. When his head hit the cement, Shroud had already spun around, firing a round into her stomach. Roll fell to her knees, then down next to him, looking into his eyes.

"Get up!" Shroud yelled, as a familiar face came rushing them, angrily.

"Is that fucking Scott Bonne?!" Branson shouted, as Shroud pushed him into the passenger seat of his armored car.

Jumping in, Shroud punched the pedal, just before Scott could get his hands on them. "I don't know how the hell you got taken, or why the hell I'm seeing ghosts, but we need to solve this problem now!"

"Maybe he had a twin brother." Branson suggested, trying to ignore the immense pain he was in.

"Scott and Tracy Bonne did _not_ have a third sibling, you dipshit. Don't you think I would have known that?" Shroud said. " _That_ was a fucking android. I scanned him twice. Which means either his sister, Tron, is still alive and highly skilled; or Dr. Light has not been playing nice. Either way, call everyone and put them in that building right now, before they leave or call reinforcements!"

"Yes, sir." Branson said, taking the comms and issuing the order. "There, the men are on the way."

"How long before they can get there?" Shroud asked, "We can't let the Bonnes escape."

"Ten minutes, max, Sir." Branson replied.

Shroud grinned, then put on the breaks. Branson looked at him, baffled, before feeling the sting of two blades pierce his lungs, then cross his throat.

"Thanks for the assistance, you fucking traitor." Silas whispered into his ear, from the back seat.

As his vision began to tunnel away, he watched Shroud slowly shift into Helix. "Shame you'll miss the final act." He heard Helix say, before hearing nothing ever again.


	7. The End

**Chapter 7**

When the armored car pulled back up to the compound, Roll was standing out front, removing Tracy's "blast-wound simulation" plated top. "Gina, if your going to strip, couldn't you at least step inside?" Helix asked, exiting the vehicle and tossing her the G-49. "Put some real cartridges in it and give it to Tron."

"Sir, yes Sir." She replied, with a grin.

"Hey, I kinda liked that." He responded, walking through the front doors.

Miller and her troops had arrived in large numbers, and all gathered around Tracy, who was tossing out Wily uniforms from an equipment crate. "Alright everyone!" She shouted to the mob, "Activate the electronic heads-up display on your visors. I've outfitted each of the uniforms with an aura generator. The Wily soldiers with a blue hue are your friends, the ones without an aura need killin'."

Gina walked up to Tracy, now wearing a tight, sleeveless, brown combat vest with matching fingerless gloves and wrist-sleeves that came up to her biceps. Her orange-lens goggles were pulled up on her head like an old-time aviator. "Gerard asked me to give you this." She said putting the repeater against the crate.

Tracy picked it up, "Hey, Marcus!" She shouted. Radcliffe looked across the room to her, "Heads up!" She said tossing him the rifle. She turned to Gina, "Tell him 'thanks', but Miller brought my gear from home." Tracy said, pointing a thumb towards the large metal crate in the corner.

Gina smiled, "Suit yourself, chick."

The small office upstairs was lit by a dim, yellow light. Scott sat quietly, in his grey and red nanosuit, twirling his helmet in his palms. Across from him was Lana Miller, she methodically sharpened each of her eight combat knives, like a viper coiling to strike. Neither spoke, only anticipated the coming storm.

Scott looked over to her, and broke the silence with a Latino accent, "I cut you so bad, make you wish I didn't cut you so bad." He said, chuckling.

Miller stopped, "What?" She asked.

Scott shook his head, "It's from this old show, the guy...nevermind." He said, realizing she didn't care about anything he was about to say.

Miller shook her head, going back to her ritual, when Silas entered the room.

"Branson's dealt with, with any luck Helix will get a comm and we can put a nail in this thing once and for all." He stated.

"Taking out some soldiers and Shroud won't put an end to anything." Miller said, "But if that's what your endgame is, I'm willing to fight for that."

Silas looked back at her, "Captain Miller, did you know our leader when he was a wraith?"

She shook her head, "I didn't."

"He was a young kid, about the same age as Miss Bonne out there. He was loyal, funny, and always willing to stick his neck out for anyone in need." Silas lit a cigarette, "He was brought to me when he was seventeen, an orphan. It was either a life inside of institutions or be trained to fight for our country. He was like a son to me. So you will understand that after he witnessed his closest friends being helplessly slaughtered by Wily's henchmen, it took a toll on him. His hatred and starvation for revenge has eaten away at him, more and more, each day." The Colonel blew out a cloud of smoke, before stomping out the butt. "So, yes, Captain Miller, _this_ is our endgame. Not to save the country, we just want to kill all of the traitorous dogs, and their android master."

Helix sat, spinning an old top, staring at Branson's private comms device. Begging silently for it to chime. He chewed his lip nervously for several minutes, counting his breaths. The rings seemed deafening when they went off. He jumped to attention and tried to get his nerves about him. Helix pulled down his mask and took on the form of Phillip Branson. He pressed the accept key, springing Shroud's angry face into the air. "Sir." He stated.

"Don't _sir_ me, Branson." Shroud said, "I couldn't help but notice that you've deployed _every_ last human trooper to some solar factory in Bumfuck, Virginia."

"Yes, Sir. I was captured by The Rancors, they took me by surprise, but I managed to escape." He stated, nervously.

Shroud shook his head, "Branson you do realize that this is an obvious trap, correct? I mean, mice wouldn't even fall for this. Now either you're too fucking stupid to see that, or you're in on it. Either way you are relieved of your duties, effective immediately." Shroud began to reach for the "end" key.

Helix began to panic, he was about to lose his one shot at revenge, "Sir, wait!" He shouted, getting Shroud's attention. "The Rancors, they're former Wraiths!"

Shroud cocked an eyebrow, "The Wraiths are dead, Branson. I should know. I was there." He stated.

"Even Tracy Bonne?" He replied, quickly.

Shroud stopped in his tracks, "I'm on my way." He responded simply, before cutting communication.

Helix shifted back to his real self, pulling off his eye mask and exhaling in relief, as he began to laugh wildly. He would either get what he had longed for, or die in the process. Either way, tonight would be his last night living in misery.

Wily's men had surrounded the compound, and in unison the walls disintegrated on each side of the building, as they flooded in, like a hoard of cockroaches. The bewilderment flooded the ranks, when they found themselves staring down soldiers in identical riot gear, bearing the "W" insignia.

The compound was dead silent, when on the upstairs catwalk, Helix stepped into view, "Gentlemen! Welcome to the end!" He screamed, as the building went pitch black, only to be lit by the machine gun fire unloaded into the crowd of enemies.

Wily's men began to scatter, activating their night vision, when the flashbang went off. The screams of hundreds of men, ripping off their headgear, permanently blinded, was drowned out by the melodic blasting of a rotating, ten-barreled, repeater. Protoman had attached the hand-sized gun over his right wrist, gripping a white and red shield in his left hand. The barrels spun viciously, as the bolts turned men into condiments.

The less valiant traitors had made their way to various exits, to be rewarded with free brain surgery, courtesy of Graves and his trusty snipers. With almost half of their ranks donated to science, Wily's soldiers fought on. Those fortunate enough to have not turned on their night vision in time fired back, circling the lower levels methodically.

Miller and Radcliffe waded into the mob headfirst. The G-49 sent men airborne, while Miller cut trenches through armored limbs. A large hand grabbed Miller's face from behind. She spun, dipping down, and weaving a pattern with her blades: love handles, pecks, elbows, wrists, then throat. The man had bled out before hitting the floor. Turning ninety degrees, she plunged both knives into the back of another man's skull, as she quickly yanked two more free from her combat vest.

A group of soldiers had backed themselves into a storeroom, trying to stay tight-knit. The wall behind them crumbled, when a massive green mech emerged, with Tron Bonne at the helm. The right hand gripped a massive, iron flail, while the left held a large shield with a skull engraved. They were killed instantly, as the spiked ball planted them against the adjacent wall.

Tron charged the mech into the main assembly area, where she ditched the flail, replacing the hand with a spinning saw blade. Rotating it horizontally, she ejected it from a steel chain, maneuvering it through a huge chunk of the enemy forces.

Six men had cautiously made their way into the office area amongst the chaos. They made their way up the stair case, with intentions of taking out the Rancors' leader. Opening the doors to the lecture hall, they found someone else, an attractive blonde, wearing orange goggles and brown leather. They had to pick their jaws up off the floor and remind themselves that she was the enemy. But before they could raise their weapons she had closed in on them.

Roll pulled a set of nunchucks free, and began swinging away on the group of soldiers. Guns were of no use when you you were too close to raise them, that was one of the key lessons that Scott had given her. The first man actually tried to throw a right hook at her jaw, she easily dodged the blow, reaching up with the nunchucks chain, she wrapped his arm, breaking it violently. He dropped to the floor shouting, as she wrapped her leg over his head, and snapped his neck.

The other five wounded men turned to run, but found themselves face to face with their red-haired target. Helix stood without his trademark mask, only eyes of rage. Within seconds, the duo had rushed them from both sides, attacking like wolverines. The men stood no chance, and lie dead within two minutes. Roll and Helix stood over their piled bodies, feeling a great sense of satisfaction.

Wily's men had been decimated, bloody bodies decorated the ground floor like a Pollock painting. The surviving Rancors searched, making short work of the survivors. Protoman approached Tron, who sat lazily in her mech. "Glitch would be proud, ya know." He said to her.

She raised an eyebrow, "How so? We didn't even get Shroud."

"Shroud's time will come." Scott said, "But you really let loose out there, tonight. He always told me you were a 'secret weapon'."

She chuckled, "I rolled out in a big ass machine, Scott, I'm not exactly Lara Croft."

Scott looked shocked, "Hey, classic references are _my_ thing." He said smiling. "Besides, that big ass machine saved lives tonight. Probably save mine one day."

She began to chuckle, when something caught her eye. A wave of terror came over her, as she began to get back into her mech.

Shroud walked through one of the large openings in the wall, arms covered in blood. "You know, your snipers should have _really_ been more aware of their surroundings." He said, smugly. "But what do you say we get this over with, huh?"

He wore a silver and blue nanosuit, and put a matching helmet onto his head, bearing what looked like a "U" on the brow. When his eyes met Scott's, his expression changed, to that of disgust.

Scott put his own helmet on and began to approach the android. Helix was right, tonight would, in fact, be the end.


	8. The Long Goodbye

**Chapter 8**

Shroud stood before the survivors, his silver nanosuit seemed to shimmer, with royal blue trim, save for his gauntlets, which dripped crimson. Protoman wasted no time rushing in to rip the android apart. From the moment the two locked eyes, he knew he had finally put Shroud off guard, for once. Nothing like breaking in on a resistance, to find yourself face to face with a man you personally executed.

 _Scott Bonne? A humanoid?_ Shroud thought, before having to fall back, due to a flurry of machine gun bolts, from Protoman's rotating arm-cannon. From outside the broken wall, he depressed a small key on his wrist. Scott's gun ceased, sending sparks from it's base. Shroud stepped back inside, reaching out his hand. Scott began to feel the gun tightening around his hand, ripping it off before it crushed completely.

Shroud gripped him magnetically, holding Scott stiff in mid-air, "They may have put you back together again, Mister Bonne, but as always, _I_ am still superior in every way." He flicked his wrist sending Protoman sailing into the rafters, crashing down hard. Giving a smug grin, Shroud turned to deal with the others, only to be struck suddenly by a massive steel fist.

Tron's mech recoiled hard, from sending Shroud countless yards across the facility. The gears shifted, pulling back the clenched fist, as Tron watched the android skip across the room smashing concrete pillars on his ride. She sprung out of view, before he could pull himself to his feet, scanning the room.

"Is _this_ what you have?!" He shouted, pulling down piles of steel debris, blocking the exits. "That's fine with me." He stated to the empty room, "I would love to eradicate you all over again."

He caught a quick blip of a heat signature to his right, from the assembly room. He ripped the wall free, by it's metal anchors, and was instantly bathed in fusion bolts. Silas emerged, followed by thirty troopers, clad in temperature masking body armor. By the time he gripped their weapons, and mangled them in their hands, he was under close attack, by three assailants.

Silas, Roll and Helix had shed any gear consisting of metal, and went into a full-on savage beating, with wooden rods and concrete projectiles. Shroud was holding his own better than they had expected, deflecting blows and keeping them at arm's-length. Roll came around low, catching him across the ribs with a thick wooden tonfa, causing Shroud to double over.

Shroud felt solid rage, as the floor came into view, followed by a heavy boot to meet his face. A steel-toed boot, which he didn't fail to notice. The three simultaneously flipped head over heels, soaring in different directions. He stood up, sweeping his arm, knocking soldiers to the ground by the masses. Shroud spotted Tracy across the room, raising the colossal cannon connected to the arm of her machine. He dashed forward reaching out. The suit began to close in around her, but the barrel still fired. Shroud absorbed the heavy round, tearing his chest armor away in the process.

Tron saw the android go down hard, but her mech continued to try and crush her. She undid her straps and struggled to climb free. Her shoulders started to feel heavy pressure, as she began to panic. Tron looked up to see the damaged android, smiling evilly from across the room, rising to his feet. The pain was starting to worsen as her circulation was being cut off, when she saw her saving grace, the flap of a long yellow cloth.

Protoman rushed at high speed, pulling back a steel bar with a hunk of concrete still on the end. The collision caught the side of Shroud's head, like two cars colliding. His helmet was knocked off, rolling across the floor. Regaining control of her machine, Tracy used it large hands to rip itself off of her. She fell to the floor, vision blurry, crawling slowly as her brother squared off with the detective.

Shroud threw a violent kick to Scott's ribs, only to have his leg caught. He jumped off the other, in a corkscrew motion, kicking his opponent under the chin. This only staggered the android bearing his hated enemy's face. Protoman was quick to counter attack, driving a knee into Shroud's jaw as he rose. Before he could straighten out his vision, his foe was on top of him, teeth clenched, his eyes hidden behind the jet black visor, but Shroud knew there was fire in them. The gloved hands grabbed his skull, pulling him to his feet, as a lightning-fast three-punch combination collided with his face. He stumbled back, wondering if the fluids pouring onto the concrete were his. Shroud touched his face, and discovered the answer. "You think you're doing something, Mister Bonne?!" He screamed. "All of you are dead men!" He looked at the mob surrounding him, as he bled from the face. "All of you, all of you!" He began to laugh, "Even with an army, you have no hope."

Scott walked over, leaping off of one foot, and driving a hard right cross into Shrouds eye, knocking him to the floor. He crouched down over the reeling android and whispered, "Hope rides alone, Mister Shroud."

Shroud's eyes ignited with anger, hearing Scott Bonne's final words repeated a second time. The android stepped back, mocking for him to stand back up. He did. The crowd around them began to cheer and scream, as if this were some old-time street fight in the Bronx. Staring down his foe, he spit blood onto the floor. He ran at Scott, taking long strides, looking for an opening. Protoman stepped forward, looking to meet him with a swift kick to the mid-section. Instead of trying to deflect the blow, he twisted and slid under it, continuing across the room toward the android's sister, who lay crawling on the floor.

Tron was too groggy to put up a fight, when Shroud snatched her to her feet, putting a hand around her neck and stepping behind her. "How about now Mister Bonne?" He yelled, "Are you still that _hope_!?" Tracy began to giggle from in front of him. He snatched her hard, "You _are_ a loon. I thought it was an act." He said to her, preparing to snap her neck.

"Wait, wait." She said softly, as he leaned forward. "I invented something."

Shroud was baffled, _how crazy is this girl?_ He thought.

"It's, it's a, transmittance response neural advocate. It's new." She said, hazily.

He thought for a second, either she was severely concussed, or this was a trap. Knowing the Bonnes, he voted for the latter. He made the snap decision to break her neck immediately, before it was time to find out. But Shroud realized it was already too late, as a small light on her head gear lit up, and he felt a hard jolt from his left.

The large green mech, still with it's front ripped open, had smashed him with it's massive fist, causing him to glide into an angry crowd of soldiers. The ones who weren't knocked over began to pile him, like a pack of hungry wolves. The crowd split open, as a young, vengeful, red-haired man stepped through and began stomping on his head, viciously. "This is all you are Shroud!" The man they called Helix shouted at him. "Just a pompous shit who stepped into the wrong fucking warehouse!" The mask around Helix's eyes flickered, as he changed appearance, into Branson, leaning into Shrouds face. "You were right, _Sir_. It was a trap."

Shroud found himself frustrated. There was no way a human had out-smarted _him._ It was impossible. The red-haired man reverted to normal appearance, and began pummeling him with a set of steel batons. The pain was something he wasn't used to, he blindly lashed out with his foot, catching Helix in the stomach by sheer luck. Capitalizing on the situation, Shroud sprang to his feet, making a frantic dash for his helmet. The mob followed, but it was Scott Bonne who intercepted him, driving a shoulder into his gut, lifting him off his feet. There was a brief moment of free-fall before the men smashed to the floor.

Protoman mounted the android, relentlessly driving blows into his face as Shroud tried desperately to cover his head. He stopped punching, looking down at the bloodied face of his nemesis. Shroud was dazed, damaged and fading bad. "N-n-n-n-no. You open your fucking eyes!" Scott shouted, slapping the android. "Look at me, Shroud!" He yelled. His foe obliged, gazing up at him. "You murdered my fiance, in cold blood." Scott said through gritted teeth, gripping Shroud's hair, "Killed and tortured my friends. You killed me, Shroud! So now, it's your turn. Any last words?"

Helix and Roll walked up slowly, handing a fusion shotgun to Scott, who removed his helmet.

Shroud emptied a mouthful of fluids on the ground, before responding. "Inferior..."

This was the only word that made it out, before Scott raised the barrel and blew the front half of Shroud's head away.

The room was dead silent. Everyone stood around in shock. The beast over their heads was _really_ gone. Tracy walked up, picking up Shroud's core chip out of the mess. "There's probably a way to get some intel off of this." She said quietly, voice shaking. Scott stood up, throwing his arms around her, as Helix and Roll joined them.

"It's over." Helix said, both laughing and crying at the same time. "He's _actually_ dead."

The Rancor and Light soldiers all gathered around the body, as Silas covered it in a yellow fluid. "Happy travels ya prick." He said tossing a cigarette lighter, causing a roaring blaze. The men and women cheered in unison, as the android burned.

"Alright Rancors!" Helix shouted, "I've enjoyed our time together. But it's time for you to look toward a brighter future, with Captain Miller, here."

The men looked around, smiling. "What about you, Sir?" One of the soldiers asked.

Helix looked to Roll, smiling. "It's time I charter a first class, Wily VIP watercraft for two." He grinned. "And never return it of course."

The next morning Tracy and Scott stood with Helix and Roll, outside of Light Tower. The last survivors of an era, the world seemed brighter to them, even though the country was still in turmoil. "So where do you think you two will end up?" Scott asked.

"Not sure." Gerard said, "Maybe Australia, Iceland, or Asia. We haven't decided yet."

"You really think a security droid is going to believe that Wily is taking a woman on a romantic getaway?" Tracy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Droids don't think about anything," He replied, looking over to Scott, "well, _basic_ droids. Not you. All I have to do is look like him, by the time they realize it was a trick, we'll be long gone."

Gina looked over at Tracy, "You know there will be retaliation for this. You guys should come with us."

"No one to retaliate against." Scott said, smiling. "The Rancors are ghosts now, and Wily has no one left but his machines. You guys should stay here, help bring his demise."

They both shook their heads, "You know that was never the plan with us." Gerard said, "I think we've had our fill of _this_ life."

Gina went into her pocket, "I almost forgot." She pulled out a small holo with numbers on it. "Here. We stopped the Soldiers from torching the old Wraith compound, but we could never bring ourselves to go back." She handed the holo to Scott, "Here's the system codes if you want to go back for anything."

Scott took one look and tapped his temple, "Got it." He said as he handed it to Tracy.

"Have a good life, you guys." Tracy said, giving them each hugs.

"Give Wily hell for us." Gerard said, before the two rounded the corner, heading for freedom.

"Looks like we got a lot of planning to do, Tron." Scott said.

She held up Shroud's core chip. "Let's get to it then." She said with a grin.


	9. Bad Briefings

**Chapter 9**

 **May 2, 2099-Light Tower**

 **(Six years later)**

The hallways and shops in Light tower were filled. A lot of new arrivals had moved in since Miller's new army had discovered the underground hives of former military men and refugees. Thanks to hundreds servbots, the tower was able to maintain it's own economy, away from the fist of Wily. Miller was trying to calm down an irritated Alex Light in his private quarters.

"This is bullshit, Lana." Alex said, pacing the room. "He's hiding something! I know it. That droid didn't even look twice at me."

She rubbed her eyes, reaching for her white t-shirt. He was drinking again, and not in a good way. This wasn't the fun, drunk Alex Light she had known and came to love. He was riddled with paranoia and harsh depression. "Alex, you know your father isn't in with Wily." She pulled her shirt over her head, standing up. He stared at the floor as he paced, as if she weren't there. "We don't openly oppose them, so we stay off their radar." She put her hand on his shoulder, "I am working day and night with Preston. What we are doing is real, Alex. He is _not_ hiding anything. I would know."

Alex finished off his glass of Scotch. "Fuck it. I'm going to talk to him tonight."

Miller lifted his chin, looking into his eyes, "Do _not_ do that." She stated, "Alex, we are _this_ close to bringing Wily down. I need you to put this whole thing on hold and get your shit together. The truth _will_ come out."

Alex turned away, saying nothing. The small transmutation droid filled his glass again, as he looked out the view port.

"This isn't you, Alex." Miller said, feeling heartbroken. "I can't keep watching you destroy yourself, it's not fair." The dead eyed, over the shoulder look, confirmed that she had truly lost him. Tears began to well up in her eyes, "You are wrong, Alex." She said. "And by the time you realize you were wrong, it'll be too late. I have seen nothing but misery since the takeover, and _you_ were the only thing that kept me going. I _won't_ come back after this, Alex."

He took another gulp from his glass, "So, this mean the wedding is off?" He said, knowing that she still hadn't told his father about their relationship.

 _Fuck you._ Came to mind, but instead Miller simply walked out silently. When she made it to her quarters, she broke down, knowing she had to get it all out before the announcement, later.

Tracy stood over her work table, being pestered by servbots pulling at her leg. "What?" She asked one of them. It tweeted and nodded a few times. "I'm aware that you guys need updates, please stop reminding me, I'm busy." She told him. The group of robots walked away, in unison, hopping onto her break table, "No, no, no. That's where I eat! Get down." They reluctantly obliged.

"You keep treating them like your children and you're gonna get attached." Scott said walking in.

She didn't look up from the hand cannon on the table, "I treat you like my brother, and I don't give a shit about _you_." She said, playfully.

Scott smiled, picking up Shroud's core chip, that now was encased, like a trophy, in glass. "That's not true. If I were destroyed you would _so_ have me built again."

Still looking through her goggles, Tracy replied, "A: Put that down. And B: No I wouldn't. I can't keep going through life experiencing my brother's death over and over. And if I grow used to the fact that you're expendable, then making you loses it's meaning."

Scott grimaced. "What?" She said, looking up at him, as if she sensed it.

"We got a meeting, like now-ish. And I want you to try and remain collected, in there." He said.

"The fuck do you mean?" She asked, "I didn't know about a meeting. And why would I lose my shit?"

He put the trophy down, shaking his head, "Just c'mon. Let's get this done."

Tracy felt like she was walking into an ambush, as she entered the new "Briefing Room". There was a large holo of The White House in the center of the room, surrounded by Dr. Light, Miller, Radcliffe and Brian Jennings. The sinking feeling set in, looking at their faces, she knew what this was about.

"Alright, we are all here." An aged Light said as Tracy and Scott took their seats. "Our scouts have returned with the final numbers and patrol patterns of The White House." He continued, putting on his glasses. "This is it, everybody. Wily's ours tomorrow night."

Tracy looked over at Scott, realizing the irony of their conversation. "Dr. Light, I think tomorrow is a stretch." She blurted, panicking. "I mean, anything can go wrong and Scott will be up shit's creek in there."

" _Scott_ is a machine, Tracy." Miller said, with blood shot eyes. "If we have to, we will make another _Scott_ to make you feel better."

Tracy recoiled, raising an eyebrow, "Maybe, in the said case, the only thing that would make me feel better would be a boot to your skull."

Miller stared her down, "Think you could pull that off, _Tron_?"

Tracy pulled a small device from her pocket, holding it up. "My fucking name is _Tracy._ " She pressed the holokey and a robotic voice came over the receiver, " _Mech 476: Active. Please activate neural command unit, and issue command."_ Tracy smirked, "And I didn't say _my_ boot."

Scott let out an exaggerated sigh, "We gonna be done with this soon? I'm beginning to feel awkward."

Miller lowered her head, letting out a fed-up chuckle, "You don't have feelings. You have a program that _Engineer Bonne_ installed, mirroring human emotion, an artificial intelligence." She raised her head looking around the room, "What are we really talking about here?" She said, obviously not being herself. "We have Wily, all we have to do is execute the plan! We are debating over the metal and wires?!" She said pointing to Scott, who shrugged.

Radcliffe spoke up, "Captain," he said quietly.

Miller looked around the room, feeling on edge and embarrassed. Silently cursing Dr. Light's son. "I'm sorry." She said, looking down. "Radcliffe, can you go help Jenning's techs set the training units up, and uh, I guess we will revisit this in the morning." She said, gathering her things.

"Wait," Tracy said to her, "Where the hell are you going?"

Miller didn't look at her, "To get drunk." She replied, walking out the door.

"Real classy." Tracy said to Light, rolling her eyes.

He shook his head. "Something's not right. You know that's not her."

"To a degree." Tracy said, shrugging.

Light sighed, "Something's bothering her. Just let her get it out by herself, and we can meet again, in the morning to go over plans of attack." He started gathering his things, standing up.

"Wait a minute, Preston. Meet for _what?!_ We can't go ahead with this thing based off of blueprints and patrol patterns! Scott will be killed!" She shouted.

Jennings let out an exasperated sigh and sat back down, trying not to be noticed.

Dr. Light turned to him, "Brian, will his new exosuit be able to move silently, absorb heat, and distort fusion lasers? Yes or no?"

Jennings felt like his parents were dragging him into another argument, "Well, um, yes, yes, and in the right circumstance and time duration, maybe." He replied.

Tracy pointed to Jennings, "See!? Too long in one of those focused beams and he's done! And what I mean by _'too long'_ is point zero twelfths of a second! I've seen the studies myself."

Light rubbed his now white hair, roughly, "I _get_ it! I have a lot to lose if he fails, also. You don't understand that. But Tracy, the day you walked into my office, pink mohawk and all, the deal we made was that I would create a humanoid _'_ to move on Wily, on _my_ command. It was an added demand on your part, that he be Scott Bonne."

Tracy stood up, "You are _seriously_ going to hold me to a deal I made, when I was nineteen and abandoned?! I understand that this is what he was made for, but..."

Jennings had began to tune out the argument, only wanting to sleep. He watched on as they made their points, for what seemed like forever, before Scott stepped in, consoling his weeping sister, and negotiating an extension of the plan. _Finally_. Jennings thought, as the meeting had come to an end.

Walking out, they were greeted from down the hall, with a slightly slurred "Hey, there ya are!"

Jennings mumbled, "Ah, Christ."

He was drunk again, Alex Light swayed down the hall in his camouflage pants and black Boston Bruins t-shirt.

"Alex, please stop making my fusion droids transmute beer for you." Light said, defeated.

Alex put his hand on his father's shoulder, "C'mon dad, it's free." He leaned in closer and whispered, "And it's Scotch."

Jennings, fed up, responded, "Well, on that note, I think I'll be heading to my room." Scott and his sister followed suit.

Alex clapped Jennings on the back as he passed him, "Hey man, when are we gonna get trashed and break into the Aquatic Center again?" He asked.

Brian, still walking, replied, "We were seventeen, I was sober, and you almost drowned."

"Still fun." Alex muttered, under his breath.

Dr. Light escorted his son into the Briefing Room, as Scott and Tracy made their way toward the elevator. When the doors opened, they found themselves face to face with Lana Miller. She was obviously drunk, wearing her black tanktop and combat pants. She eyed them with intense anger.

"Wow, that didn't take long." Scott said jokingly.

Miller raised her glass, hair strewn in her face, "Cheers, machine." She said, sarcastically. "Where's your _maker_?"

" _Life form scans suggest that he is at coordinates X:25, Y:43. Known as 'Briefing Room'."_ He replied in a robotic tone.

She took a sip from her glass, not smiling and whispered, "Thanks."

Tracy said nothing, only watching the exchange, in disgust. When the three heard the sound of a glass break, followed by Alex walking out of the Briefing Room. Miller began to rush toward him. "Fuck 'em." Tracy muttered to Scott, looking down the hall, as they stepped into the elevator.

Miller was advancing fast on Alex, who put his hands to his face. "What the hell are you doing?" She asked angrily.

Alex turned quickly, saying nothing, and put his arms around her, burying his face on her shoulder. She consoled him as they dropped to their knees, "I'm sorry." He whispered, "I don't want his life anymore."

Miller understood, and believed that Alex had finally found the answer he was looking for.

 _ **(Note from the Author: This chapter intersects with a flashback in Megaman. The other aspects of the events that took place can be found in the Chapter Titled "Bad Briefings Again")**_


	10. Dominos

**Chapter 10**

Protoman stared down the hall of fusion lasers with fierce intensity. Jennings' voice came over comms, "By my count, you have lost seventy-seven arms, a hundred and twenty-two feet, and forty-five heads. Wily's security won't be as forgiving as mine, Scott."

He nodded, irritatedly. "I've passed through the hall perfectly for the past two weeks straight, Brian. I think I'm ready." He replied.

"That is true." Jennings said, "But before that you lost seventy-seven arms, a hundred and twenty-two feet..."

"I get it." Scott said, cutting him off.

"Do you?" Tracy said, now. "Tomorrow night, if you make one mistake, whatsoever, you won't even make it into the White House. Run it again, Scott."

They watched on as Protoman maneuvered his way, daftly, through the laser field, emerging unscathed. "Twenty-five seconds." Jennings said from the control room.

Scott unwrapped the yellow scarf from around his neck, pleased with the results.

"Again." Tracy came over comms.

Scott was in disbelief, "What the hell Tron? I've run this course thousands of times." He looked over to the glass window, tapping his helmet, "I've got it down."

Tracy nodded, from behind the glass as the comms came back on, "You're right Scott. Now, set up to go again."

If it made his sister feel better about what he was about to do, then he decided he would obey her every request for preparation. He walked back to the start, eying the lasers with intense focus, as he ran it again...and again.

 **The White House- August 15, 2099**

Curtis Wily walked into the Calligraphy Room, pulling on a pair of work gloves and rolling up his sleeves. Hundreds of half-developed androids lay lifeless on tables lining the rooms. He thought back to the days before the takeover and how magical it felt to him, creating a living being from inanimate parts. He sighed, pushing his now grey hair back into a ponytail, now it was just...work. He began stitching the light blue hair follicles into the scalp of his near-finished subject, this ones chip was already programmed and installed, all he had left was to put on the finishing touches.

He felt deflated, he hadn't slept in days and the dim lighting of the room wasn't helping matters. Wily pulled his comms from his pocket, "Guts." He called.

"Yes, Sir?" Gutsman replied.

"This room feels like it's strangling me. Have some droids sent up to help me move to the West Wing." He requested, rubbing his eyes.

"Right away, Sir." Guts responded. "What about the ten security droids stationed in your location? No reason to leave them in the open, and the other rooms are occupied."

"I don't care, store them in the First Lady's Office for now." Wily said.

Gutsman stood at his control console in the Diplomatic Reception Room, having a friendly "chat" with his head of communications, Quickman. "Guts, it's been almost seven years and I haven't come across the slightest hint of The Rancors. I think it's time to accept the fact that Mags got himself into something personal and ended up paying the price." Quick stated to a frustrated Gutsman.

"Magnetman was one of _us_ , Quick." Guts replied, solemnly. "There was a time when that meant something. I know you are second generation, but machines should look out for our own. No matter what."

"I get that, really I do, but you have to understand that I literally have no data to go off of. By the time my machines reached his last known location, he was a smoking frame with a half of a head. No trace, no incidents since." Quick responded.

"What about the impersonator, shortly after? Reports said that someone with the exact appearance of King Wily took a woman on a private cruise and never returned." Guts asked. "What ever came of that?"

"Absolutely nothing, Sir." Quick said, "The boat was found weeks later, abandoned. My guess is that Mags' killers possessed some sort of appearance altering technology, maybe someone from the 'Wraiths' incident wanting retribution. Either way, they've simply vanished."

Gutsman was about to respond when the sounds of blaring alarms cut through the silence. He looked to Quickman's holo, "Maybe they didn't after all." He said.

Quickman looked off screen for a second, "I'm linked in, you are looking at one intruder in the East Wing, First Lady's Office."

"He must think Wily is in the Calligraphy Room. Amateur." He said, before closing the feed and grabbing his steel case.

 **Light Tower**

Dr. Light and Tracy stood in the Briefing Room, shouting at each other. "What the hell are you doing Preston?!" She yelled. "Order him the fuck out of there! Or send _your_ people in to help him!"

"Calm down, Tracy!" Light replied, "There is too much on the line, just like your brother himself said. Miller and her men will pick him up at the Lincoln Memorial, he knows this!"

Tracy stormed out of the room, throwing her comms to the floor and retreating to her lab, locking the doors behind her.

Light pressed his temples, and activated his comms, "Lana."

"We are already on our way." She responded.

He nodded slowly, when he saw that Protoman's vital readout had ceased activity. His heart sank, Wily _had_ to know, now. A small sense of panic washed over him, trying to remember the last place his son had said he was going. "Lana I think we've lost Protoman." He said, "Give him four hours, if he doesn't show I need you back here, Alex may be in danger and we need to find him."

 **Lincoln Memorial**

Miller's skin went cold at Light's last statement. She turned to Radcliffe unable to focus on the task at hand. "We need to go." She said simply.

Radcliffe gave her a sympathizing look, "Captain, I can't begin to understand what you're feeling, but Dr. Light said to give Scott four hours."

Tears began to well up in her eyes, she cursed Alex for making her feel so weak. "Give me ten men, a small group, Marcus." She said, wiping her cheeks, "You are the only person who could know what this means to me. Just ten men."

Radcliffe lowered his head, "Alright Captain. I won't say anything, go find him."

 **The White House**

Guts dragged the damaged android down the hall, taunting Scott as he threw his lifeless body into the compactor, and pulling the power switch. A tinge of thrill ran through him, knowing he was about to delve back into his element. Filing reports, coordinating with officers, all of that made him feel like his full potential was a complete waste. He had no patience at the moment, as soon as he pressed the "activate" key to the compactor, he was on his way to Wily's office.

When Guts walked in, Wily sat hands shaking from anger. " _That_ ," he began as he pushed his hair aside, "that, was an android, correct?" He asked, knowing the answer.

Guts nodded, "Correct, Sir."

Wily sat back in his chair, leg jumping rapidly, "Scott Bonne, of all fucking people, Scott, fucking, Bonne!" He shouted, shoving the contents of his desk to the floor. Wily gathered himself, "He's dead?"

Gutsman nodded, "Yes sir."

Wily pointed to him, "You are _absolutely_ sure? You watched him die, you confirmed that he was destroyed?"

Guts thought for a split second, then lied, "Yes, Sir. Crushed and packed."

Wily let out a breath, "Good. Check with Quickman, I want Alex Light in here within three hours. I made a promise, Guts. And the bastard is making me live up to it."

 **Lincoln Memorial**

Radcliffe and the remaining unit sat patiently, scanning for any sign of Protoman. "Sir." One of the troopers whispered, "South side of the Memorial, we got six 'scanners'."

Radcliffe stalked along the building to see that the situation was much worse. One of the scanner bots had picked up a heat signature and was on it's way toward them, followed by hundreds of gearbots. He ran back to his men, "We need to move, now." He ordered.

As the crew crept along the grass, twenty yards to the evac vehicle, the scout next to Radcliff lost his head. They all turned, opening fire on the group of machines, as Radcliffe raised his sidearm, relieving a number of bots of their human-like skulls.

The men began to crowd into the large truck, as Marcus took the assault head on, filling the dusk sky with a rain of sparks and fusion bolts. "Sir, we need to go!" One of the men shouted from the truck.

"We can clear them out, and get back to the rendezvous!" Marcus shouted, dodging fusion fire and retaliating.

One of the soldiers jumped out, grabbing Radcliffe from behind, "Protoman is _dead_ , Sir! Do you want to join him?" He asked, before snatching him inside. The truck departed, cloaking a hundred yards out.

Marcus couldn't help but feel like he had left a man behind. Machine or not, Scott was a friend, as was Tracy. Having a child of his own made him convince himself that he did the right thing. Scott Bonne was dead, died years ago in fact. No matter how much he told himself this, he still felt like the lowest form of human, and Tracy would never forgive him.

 **Boston, Massachusetts**

Miller and her team scoured the streets, frantically. _This can't be happening._ She thought. Things were finally going right for them. Alex had quit drinking, he was still in a state of depression but things were looking up. Light had told her about the entire story with Wily, and what he would do. This only made her panic more, Wily was _not_ the type to bluff. Miller had finally told Light about her relationship with his son, and a counselor had been helping Alex cope with his anger issues, by implementing his love for baseball into a healing program.

Miller's head shot up, "Turn the truck around!" She shouted in realization, "Go to the old Bruins practice diamond, now!"

When they arrived on the scene, Miller ran onto the field, seeing a lone bat laying by home plate, and drag marks in the dirt. She dropped to her knees, crying, knowing that her life had just changed drastically. But not yet knowing, that the fate of the country would be changed as well.

 _ **(Note from the author: This chapter of The Bonne Chronicles parallels Chapter One of Megaman 2, titled "The Night Things Went Bad". To get the other perspective of this chapter's happenings, you can read it there, if you haven't already.)**_


	11. Home

**Epilogue**

 _ **Chesapeake, Virginia**_

His gears were in a serious need of repair, as was the state of his former home. Dust had collected all over the couches, the place was still riddled with blaster burns and blood stains. The former base of the Wraiths was now a tomb of horrible memories. Scott was only thankful that Tracy wasn't actually there that night to experience them, in turn he would be programmed with the exact memories as well.

Things got boring for him over the next few months, as he worked tirelessly to repair the communications console. To pass the time, he watched old interrogation holos to get information about his former life. One holo in particular caught his attention, a talk with someone named Maglia.

Upon hearing what the man had to say, he began working double-time repairing comms, he needed to reach his sister, privately. The signal finally came through, it was weak, but connected. She looked shocked, like she had seen a ghost.

He looked into his sister's face, also seeing that the signal was fading fast, "Holy shit, it works! Tron can you hear me?" He asked.

"Scott?" She whispered.

"Listen, I don't have much time." He said. "I escaped The White House and the Evac Team was gone. I found something about the Atlas Card too. Can you get me in Chesapeake, Virginia? And Don't tell anyone."

The feed cut out. He could only hope she caught all of that in time. Now the only thing Scott could do, was wait.


End file.
